


Haven

by Arlzureinne_Karale



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Headcanon, Light Angst, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10093127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlzureinne_Karale/pseuds/Arlzureinne_Karale
Summary: Beyond the Graveyard of Books, there was a heaven.





	

**Author's Note:**

> End Roll belongs to Segawa. Did I mention I love the Informant? Yes, I love him.

The bookshelves that were nailed to the wall, in the house with roof the color of blue sky; they held many interesting, familiar books. And despite the visual, the bookshelves actually ran deeper than it seemed, there were actually two rows of books for each shelves, if he was particularly lucky, there were even more books forgotten in the back.

“There was a thin line between dreams ... and reality.”

But mostly, they told lies.

He returned the book with a heavy, empty thud, soundlessly drew his hand and looked up. Blue eyes quickly scanned the remainder of books in the bookshelves, the young informant lurked around behind him—identical gaze of green eyes peeked between strands of golden-colored hair, a smile so sardonic it looked more like a smirk adorned his face.

The dreamer chose a book and almost slowly, opened it to the first page.

He read it out loud, for the curious Informant who told him to do so. That splitting image of his said the boy with eyes the color of glimmering peridot could judge the book for him and save him the trouble of reading it from zero. Althought honestly, chance was, he remembered it too.

“There were various types of ... heavens ...?”

The Informant smiled, “Aaah, that one. It’s a good book, you see. You only read the couple of first pages, though, so I’m sure the next pages are blank. It’s from the school’s library.”

He even forgot he sometimes came to the _real_ library, but he supposed it was because he tried to run from reality, and so he purposely drowned himself with fantasy—refusing to anchor his thought to anything more solid than the pure reflection of the kinder universe he owned.

The dream-walker skimmed to the last page, and he quietly sighed when his gaze met with blank pages. The informant was right; he only read several pages, so even the back of his thought could not remember anything more. Not even the title and the color of its cover.

There were various types of heaven.

And he wondered if that depend on the person.

 

* * *

The prospect of heaven never crossed Russell’s thought.

Maybe because he was never a religious person in the first place, since heaven and hell and everything in between always interwined with words of bibles. Russell never actually had a chance to read or even had one, despite he read many books back in the faraway reality; Chris did, the dreamer supposed, though the brown-haired teen did not really talk much about it.

But Russell did come to that lively vine-wrapped church for their afternoon service once a week or so, before he burnt them and the blessed siblings of purple flowers to the crisp.

“Dogma.”

The young priest turned, eyebrows raised. It was just the two of them in the church, Dogma Toscarina with his broom, furiously sweeping down the aisles, occasionally stopping to cough when the dust get too close to him. And there was Russell with his rag, quietly helping Dogma with the—seemed to never have been used—piano.

“There are various types of heavens ... is that true?”

Dogma blinked, he let out a hum, red irises shifted to the side. Forehead furrowed when he drown deep in his own thought, “I’m going to presume these heavens that you talked about are, how should I say it,” the brown-haired young man cleared his throat slightly, his nimble movement stopped for the sake of answering a lost-sounding question.

After a while, Dogma finally got the most simple term he could manage, “I’m going to presuming you’re talking about world’s heavens? Or methaporical heavens? Since the real heaven is just one and only throne of God, an abode for the righteous dead in the afterlife.”

World’s heavens seemed fitting; transitory heaven, Russell nodded, he got the meaning.

“It’s depend on the person, but a world’s heaven is basically something that someone considered as a heaven for themselves. Something that make them feel fullfilment, to put it simply,” the older Toscarina carefully chose his words, his voice soft and concerned. The pastor knew Russell was a smart child, but complex explanation could lead someone astray.

“Then, Dogma ... what’s your heaven?”

The answer dripped without hesitation.

“This place, or where Cody is.”

But _this_ place was not real.

Russell quietly turned back to his work. Dogma’s words shatter something inside him, and after tidying up, the dreamer excused himself from the church. The street of Nameless Town was deserted as usual; a reminder he set for himself suddenly shouted loud in Russell’s head.

He was supposed to be investigating the place beside the main building of the—his—resort today. Russell could not get it open no matter what, but he got this nagging feeling that maybe he could open it, since he had already searched everywhere for clues, and even turning off the labyrinth on the mysterious tower that he found dangled from Informant’s set of books.

It was his dream, after all, surely there was nothing he could not get to open?

He did get it open, somehow. And his small party advanced forward.

“Two telephones as always, huh. Russell, you wanna call the Informant?” Tabasa McNeil pointed to the green telephone on the side, it was not a secret that the splitting image of Russell always helped them through mysterious dungeons and places—although sometimes he was pretty useless, like the times when they trapped in the Unregulated Room.

Russell nodded, hand picked up the telephone. He inserted the expected walnut and wait.

There was no answer.

Blue eyes narrowed slightly, full of suspicion instead of annoyance.

“He didn’t answered? How unusual, he always answered on the first ring,” Kantera mussed when he saw Russell placed the telephone back without speaking. The Informant did go full on rambling if the dreamer called him, but at least, Russell let out a grunt or hums as answers.

“Maybe he is sleeping, or something,” Cody Toscarina commented—seemed like the only thing that flashed in her head. It was an answer so logical, the others could not help but agree.

The books whispered as they passed, but only Russell stopped.

“Be careful,” they told him. Voice as soft as those black flowers that dragged themselves closer, but instead of being full of judging tone that Russell hated very much, theirs were filled with fear; for them, for him, for the next scene that would play right in front of their eyes.

Cody turned, “Russell, something’s there?”

The blond placed the book back.

They slowly advanced forward, navigated through twist and turn, carefully calculated their steps to dogde transparent enemies. There was a stairway that led to the higher back, and when Russell walked to the first step, Dogma’s voice suddenly repeated in the back of his mind.

“Cody ...?”

The older girl arched her eyebrows in silent question, the grip on her golden-colored staff slightly loosened. Eyes the shades of twilight glimmered with attention, and it made Russell paused for a second—nobody paid so much attention to him before, no one but his dream.

Dogma’s words echoed in Russell’s thought.

It was an absurd question, but, “What’s your heaven?”

Cody tilted her head, strands of brown hair fell to her eyes. She looked like she wanted to ask instead ofanswering. But after a long pause, a sigh, and flashing thoughts between her eyes, the youngest Toscarina finally spoke again, “I guess ... where my brother is.”

So, their heaven was each other.

And Russell could feel something inside him writhed.

“What is it?” Tabasa joined, heavy curiosity laced hisvoice—the same curiosity that lead Alice to Wonderland, not the one that killed the cat. The dark-haired young man lightly smiled when both Cody and Russell turned to him, blue eyes looked hopeful; as if trying to encourage the younger teens to tell him their whisper of secrets.

Cody tilted her head to Russell, and the dreamer shifted his gaze to the side.

“I just ... remembered Dogma’s words,” Russell finally answered after a while.

Upon that, Kantera also blinked in interest, the oldest male quickly walked closer to joined the sudden discussion. A soft smile graced his visage when he stepped beside Tabasa, eyes unconsciously sparkled with the same curiosity, “Oh, and what was that about?”

Russell spin Dogma’s words with his, “Something that someone considered ... as heaven.”

Tabasa cleared his throat, “Heaven, huh,” he closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowed in a deep thought. After a while, the animal-keeper finally opened his eyes, an uneasy smile adorned his face—proof he was still thinking, thought it was still as gentle-looking as ever.

“For me, I guess heaven is the forest. It’s a nice place when you already know it well. I would like to bring you there sometimes, Russell, we can see various animals and flowers. But after that incident with the monkey, I guess we have to postpone it for a while, huh,”

Cody shifted her attention when they climbed the stairs, “What about you, Doctor?”

Kantera let out a soft hum,“Tranquil and serene places sound nice.”

There were so many types of heavens, it depend on the person, Russell distinctively remembered Dogma said about that. His mind wander while his legs slowly advanced to a group of bookshelves in the corner.

He started to wonder what kind of heaven the others had.

Gardenia Reitman’s probably would be her kitchen. Mireille Nif’s possibly was a place where Saxon was. Yumi Bomber’s was maybe Nameless Town all along. Russell did not had any thought about Dreamsend members’ but he would like to ask them sometimes.

When the older figures were talking, Russell quietly took out a book from its place. The book whispered in his hand, voice soft and weak; scared. The weight was familiar in Russell’s hand, and upon closer inspection, the dreamer vividly remember what kind of book it was.

Passing conversation immediately pushed to the back of his mind when he opened the first page. Black ink adorned white paper, words neatly printed on the surface, “Hello, Russell. I’m a Strategy Guide. If you’re wandering around here, then ... are you going to see him?”

Who?

Russell flipped the paper, more whisper escaped through his fingers.

“... yes, we weren’t killed. Because we’re his friend.”

Another flip.

“... he is strong, you see. Go with caution, Russell.”

And blank.

The dreamer returned the book to its original place. Eyes the shades of darkened daylight shifted to the stairs directed to an even more higher ground. His legs automatically advanced forward, three sets more followed him closely from behind. There was a paper plastered on the wall—the edge was ripped forcefully, and Russell stopped upon their scared whispers.

“We serve as examples. He is cruel, and deeply jealous. And thus, we’re as you see now.”

The ink was blotched, black smeared white; looked like blood dripping through pale skin.

“... he ... is conviced that he is the most important thing to you ... be careful.”

Russell moved to the other side of stairs, another ripped paper greeted his sight.

“... Take caution ... Like you, he knows no mercy.”

And definite dot.

The blond-haired teen then climbed the stairs, more whisper followed his steps. The last ripped paper laid in one of the steps, its voice was no more than a sway of wind when Russell picked it up to read the blotched black ink, “He is this world’s strategy guide,” it said to him.

“In other word, your own self.”

A familiar form flashed in his head—too familiar, because he always saw them in a mirror. Of green eyes and splitting image, of smirk instead of smile, of eventide instead of daybreak, of amused gaze and laugh, of a shadow of broken teen with his equally broken tomorrow.

A familiar form of nightmare wrapped with his own skin.

Russell folded the paper and placed it in his pocket. He fully raced to the end of stairs, unconsciously leaving his small party behind. Kantera’s voice echoed through his ears, Tabasa’s footsteps chased after him, but Russell just would not stop. Not when he finally stood in the end of the stairs, a tuft of blond hair peeked from the worn-out sofa.

Eyes the shades of glimmering peridot reflected the dreamer’s form.

Before the Informant spoke, Russell beat him first.

“Is this ... your heaven?”

The spilitting image of his blinked, actually looked quite taken aback, before finally he could take over his expression again.

“No, of course no, Russell. My heaven is by your side, of course.”

A smile so soft, it reminded the dreamer of Tabasa’s, settled on the Informant’s visage, and Russell wondered if he could smiled like that too. A smile so soft, like a graze of feather across sky, like a whole new yesterday, and a credence that everything would be alright again.

Tabasa and Cody appeared behind Russell, but the Informant did not turn his gaze away. His words slow and careful, as if he was threading a thin storyline, “But I never know what your heaven is, Russell,” it was given he would ask, since he was supposed to know everything.

After all, the Informant was a reflection of Russell. An exact shattered replica.

Russell closed his eyes, brows furrowed when he drowned in his own thought.

When he opened his eyes again, blue eyes never glimmered with so much life.

“My heaven is this world.”

But _this_ world was not real.

And in the end, Russell actually could smiled a beautiful smile like the Informant’s.

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> Good day, I hope you're not bored whenever you see our username popped on the first page.
> 
> This is would be the last angst this month, I swear. Lately, I kept getting this InfoRuss feeling somehow, and I would like to write them as a pair of twin or something, it would be comically interesting. But although I said InfoRuss, what I meant is Info + Russell, so yes, please don't put any faith to me.
> 
> Oh, and also! This oneshot is kind of inspired from a RP interaction in twitter, between the Informant and Russell. I also loosely write my Informant based from their Informant, since I lacked reference for him despite I said I love the Informant, orz.
> 
> Lastly, a shout-out to Freyyyy as always, thank you!
> 
> Sorry for any grammar mistakes, thank you for reading~!  
> -Azureinne K.


End file.
